


Nine of Wands (A Hero's Fate).

by blueghostie



Series: Time for the Moon Night. [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Quite Literally, there isn't any romantic storylines going on with the mc but thats okay bc we have found family, this is also an excuse for me to have fun with demigod powers and talk about trauma, this is for me and my friends but y'all can join us here too if u want, will be updating the tags as i go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28746279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueghostie/pseuds/blueghostie
Summary: It all starts when Channary Dane learns that her father is a ghost.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Series: Time for the Moon Night. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2107479
Kudos: 5





	1. Prologue.

**IT ALL STARTS WHEN** Channary Dane learns that her father is a ghost.

She’s thought, after almost three years of learning the most bizarre things about the world, that she'd be immune to most things she would learn from then on. But no. Apparently, The Fates seemed to take her statement as a challenge. 

The weirdest thing she’d learned in her eight years of life _wasn’t_ that Greek Gods were real and now lived in America (she didn’t get why they didn’t live in Washington, the capitol, but it wasn’t like she made the rules). It wasn’t that every monster mentioned in old Greek myths was real and would try and kill her every chance she got. It wasn’t that _she,_ herself, was a Greek myth; a demigod. It wasn’t even that her mother was Melione, goddess of ghosts and spirits. No. It was that her father was a ghost. 

He wasn’t even an ordinary ghost. He was a demigod ghost. In fact, he was a very, very, _very_ , famous demigod ghost. Her father was Theseus, son of Poseidon and slayer of the Minotaur himself. 

She’d been sleeping in a cathedral she certainly shouldn’t have been when she met him. It had been summer, yet the wind was bitter and biting. She’d grown out of her old sweatshirt and needed a new one, but when she had tried to ‘buy’ (read: steal) one, she’d been ambushed by evil wind, of all things. Now, it seemed, they were going to make the rest of her day feel like it was January instead of June. 

She was shivering, using a plastic blue tarp as a makeshift blanket. The building was unfinished, that much was evident by the scaffolding and ladders and broken tools scattered between pews. Also, the holes in the roof was a pretty big reminder. 

“Channary,” a voice said softly. 

She sat up, rigid. “Who’s there?”

A figure flickered before her, silvery blue. She yelped, jumping to the other end of the pew she was on. The figure kept flickering, the cold wind making their words stutter incomprehensibly. Channary scrambled for her weapon— a simple bronze dagger that was rusted with age (she’d gotten it from a ghost). 

She wrapped her fingers around the hilt of the dagger just as the ghost’s form flickered in completely. She slashed forward, her knife cutting the figure in half. 

The figure said her name again, this time much angrier as it flickered again. 

“Who are you?” Channary demanded. Her grip around the dagger was weak, hands stiff from the cold. “What do you want?”

The ghost flickered back into view, large arms crossed and face stern. “I want to have a casual conversation, will that be a problem?”

Channary stared. The figure in front of her was at least six feet tall, muscles covering every limb. He was wearing dented armor from ancient times, leather sandals on his feet. His hair was messy and short, the colour of the graffiti on the hallways of the cathedral and his eyes were a pale green, the colour of sea foam. Like most ghosts, he had a silvery blue around him, like light reflecting water onto barren walls. He shimmered in the brisk wind. 

“Are you going to try and kill me?” She asked. 

“No,” he answered. “Why would I kill you before I get to have my conversation?”

“You’re a ghost, I’m sure our conversation can continue on after I’m dead.” Channary’s eyes widened, realizing she might’ve just given him an idea. She grasped at a subject change, something she’d been doing for years. When the only people you spoke to were monsters and dead people, you became an expert at changing subjects. “Who are you?”

He frowned. “You don’t recognize me?”

“Am I supposed to?”

“I would like to think so.” He uncrossed his arms. “My name is Theseus, son of Poseidon, and your f—”

“Wait.” Channary lowered her knife. She stood up, nearly gaping. “You’re _Theseus?_ The guy who killed the Minotaur?”

“First lesson,” Theseus held a scarred hand up. “Names have power. Do not call monsters by their names unless it’s absolutely necessary." He tapped his left ear. “They’re always listening.”

“What? Wh-”

“Second lesson,” Theseus said. “You shouldn’t interrupt me.”

This time, Channary frowned. “Says who?”

“Says me.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yes it does. I’m your father.”

Channary’s jaw fell. Neither of them said anything. A total of six minutes and fourteen seconds passed. The room grew warmer as the day reached noon. The evil wind seemed to have started giving up. 

“You’re _what?_ ”

“Your father,” Theseus repeated. 

“But _how?_ ” She stammered. “You’re… you’re dead! You’re a ghost.” 

He had the nerve to look uncomfortable, as if _he_ were the one who’d just been thrown out of a plane and told to use the parachute without anyone giving her one. “Truthfully, I am not sure. It is not up to us to question the gods.”

Channary thought of her mother, the goddess of spirits. It could be possible maybe. But wouldn’t _she_ be a ghost, too?

“I…” She shook her head. “Prove it.”

Theseus looked like he expected this. “We don’t have time,” he said. 

“You can’t just say ‘I’m your father,’ and not explain!”

“There are more important things—”

“What could possibly be more important—”

“Zeus’ master bolt was stolen.”

Channary blinked. A pair of tires skidded outside, several horns honked loudly. “What does that have to do with me?”

“If you would stop interrupting me,” Theseus said. “Then perhaps I could explain it to you.”

Channary scowled, but she sat back down on the pew anyway. Her head was beginning to spin and she was cold. She pulled the tarp around her shoulders. She began a list in her head: _Theseus... names have power... Zeus’ lightning bolt..._

“During the last winter solstice, a demigod, like yourself, snuck into Olympus—”

“Is that why you’re here?” She interrupted. “Because he thinks it’s me?”

Theseus gave her a stern look, something that Channary imagined a father would have. “What did I say about interrupting me?”

Channary pressed her lips together. Theseus continued. “Zeus thinks the thief is someone named Percy Jackson, a son of Poseidon.”

“Like you?”

Theseus nodded. “I won’t go into details, but Percy didn’t take the bolt. In fact, he has no idea where it is.”

“Do you know who did?”

“No,” he admitted. “No one does.” 

Theseus’ features then softened. He looked less like a sculpture and more human— as human as a ghost could look. He looked _real_ . Channary felt herself go stiff with the realization. This was not some type of crazy dream, this was actually happening. In the back of her mind she’d been certain she would wake up at any moment. But she couldn’t make this up, not this expression of _warmth_ and _kindness._ She’d never seen anyone look at her like that before. 

“Channary,” his voice was as soft as summer grass. “I need you to do something. Do you think you’re up for it?”

_No,_ Channary thought. She felt dazed at her sudden acceptance of all of this. This was crazy, she knew it. She knew, deep down, that she should be screaming or running or _something_ — 

_This is your father,_ a voice chided in her head. She’d had people who called themselves ‘her father’ before; a man who’d raised her for nearly eight years before he had died unexpectedly, and another man who referred to himself as ‘The Beast’ as much as he’d call himself Channary’s father for the few months that she knew him. But Theseus, he was the real thing. She could tell that he was telling the truth the same way she could tell when a place was haunted, the way she could tell what ghosts wanted to say without hearing them speak. 

Channary nodded. “Yes.”

Theseus smiled. He looked much kinder when he smiled. “Percy has been sent on a quest to find Zeus’ master bolt. I want you to find him, and help him.”

“But how—”

“Let me finish, Channary,” Theseus seemed equally amused and annoyed. “His quest is to go to the Underworld, take the bolt from Hades, and bring it back to Olympus before June 21, just a week from now.”

She frowned. “Did Hades—”

“I don’t know,” said Theseus. “But Percy and his allies seem to think Hades has a hand in this.”

“Do you think he did?”

“No.” Theseus didn’t hesitate. “This act of thievery could start a war. Hades isn’t the type to cause wars.”

Channary nodded. It made sense. She knew how chaotic the Underworld was, after all, most of the ghosts she spoke to complained about it. Hades probably didn’t want more than he had to take. “Where is Percy now?”

“I’ll be able to send you to him,” Theseus said. “But first, I need to give you something.”

Something shimmered in his hand. Channary recognized it immediately— a Spanish rapier blade. It looked like something she’d dreamed of. The blade was made of the same bronze as her knife, but thinner and unrusted. The hilt and knuckle bow were made of sandblasted sea glass the same colour as Theseus’ eyes. In her ghost-father's hands, it seemed to be translucent.

Channary’s eyes widened. “Woah…”

“This is Zosimus,” Theseus said. He turned the blade over in his hands, bronze shimmering in the pale noon sunlight. He held it out towards her, hilt first. “It’s a gift from me and your mother.” 

Channary reached forward, letting her fingertips brush against the sea glass. It came to life under her touch, the sword solidifying into something real and tangible, as if she were pulling it out of water. Her fingers wrapped themselves around the leather grip. 

“What does it mean?” she asked. “Zosimus?”

An unreadable look crossed Theseus’ face, but Channary didn’t notice. She was turning the sword in her hand, watching the bronze glimmer. 

“It means ‘likely to survive,’” Theseus answered. “Your mother named it.”

Channary had never met her mother, not even in a dream, but she still sent her a silent _thank you._ The sword was pretty. 

“Channary.” She looked up at her father. “I’m going to need you to close your eyes, okay?”

She hesitated, but nodded. She squeezed her eyes shut, tightening her grip around the sword. She felt something cold brush her shoulder. 

“Good luck Channary,” Theseus said. “People are counting you.”

The sensation of falling fell over her, and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [grabs theseus by the neck] you're mine now.
> 
> hi welcome to something that's been sitting in my brain since i began reading percy jackson all the way back in 2009 :). you're all not ready for the hell i'm about to unleash.


	2. I. CHAPTER ONE

**A WAVE OF** dizziness washed over Channary. 

She stumbled, vision blurring. She felt sick and cold, goosebumps covering her bare arms.  _ Shadow travel _ , she remembered. She’d only shadow travelled once, and she’d immediately passed out after. It wasn't her preferred method of travel. 

A rapid series of yaps jabbed pain into Channary’s head. She winced and looked up. She was in a thin corridor in front of an elevator. There were six people in front of her, none of whom she recognized. The source of the yapping was from a small dog, held on a leash by a large woman who was smiling coldly at a kid a couple years older than Channary herself. 

The kid was taller than her, with brown skin and dark, tousled black hair. His wide, sea green eyes were fixated on the small dog, which was still yapping at him. For a startling moment, Channary almost thought it was Theseus, but this kid had a lot less muscle.

“Now, sonny,” the woman with the leash scolded. “Does this look like a good time? We have all these nice people here.”

The dog let out a low growl. Channary’s heart stumbled over itself as her hand immediately went to sheath her knife was kept— only to find it wasn’t there. It had been replaced with her new sword and a new sheath.  _ When did she— _

“Doggie!” A little boy cried. “Mommy, look! A doggie!”

His two mother’s pulled him back, ignoring his confusion. The lady with the dog sighed. “Well, son… if you insist.”

The dog’s growling broke off into angry barks. The kid looked up at the lady. “Uh… did you just call that Chihuahua your son?”

“Chimera, dear,” the lady corrected. “Not a Chihuahua. It’s an easy mistake to make.” 

_ Chimera… _ Channary’s chest constricted. Her father had shadow travelled her directly to a monster. 

The woman rolled up her sleeves, revealing green, scaly arms. Her back was to Channary, but she could see from the other kid’s face that she didn’t look pleasant. The Chihuahua barked louder, growing with each angry sound. The barks blurred into roars as the dog grew into something much too big to be in the small corridor they were in. 

It looked different now— with the head and body of a lion, the tail of a serpent, and the hooves of a goat. There was a collar around its neck, studded with rhinestones. She heard the little boy scream. 

Channary unsheathed her sword, loud enough for the kid to look over at her. His eyebrows furrowed, but he didn’t say anything to her. She didn’t look at him, she only kept her gaze on the Chimera. 

“Be honoured, Percy Jackson,” The woman said. “Lord Zeus rarely allows me to test a hero with one of my broods. For I am the Mother of Monsters, the terrible Echidna!”

_ Percy Jackson… _ Channary flicked her gaze to the kid.  _ That  _ was Percy Jackson?

‘Percy’ stared at Echidna. “Isn’t that a kind of anteater?”

The lady made a roaring sound of disgust, sounding very much like her dog. “I hate it when people say that! I hate Australia! Naming that ridiculous animal after me. For that, Percy Jackson, my son shall destroy you!”

The Chimera charged. Percy leaped to the side, nearly knocking over the four other people in the corridor like a set of bowling pins. The kid who had been excited to see the dog was now clutching his mother, his sobs muffled as he pressed his face against her leg. 

Percy frantically dug into his pant pocket, but the Chimera was ready to charge again. 

“Hey!” Channary shouted. “Chimera! Over here!”

The Chimera turned, quick as a cobra strike. Channary tightened her grip on her sword. It felt awkward in her hands, a little too big. She’d never fought with a sword before, but it couldn’t be too hard, right?

Percy pulled something out of his pocket, which soon morphed into a large, bronze sword. The Chimera opened it’s mouth, hot air filling the corridor as if it were water instead of air. Channary felt something crash into her side, sending her and whatever hit her to the ground. Fire erupted above them, melting the steel of the building. 

“Great,” Percy— the person who had knocked her over— muttered. “We just blow-torched a national monument.”

Channary reached for her sword, stumbling to her feet. “I think we have bigger issues right now.”

The Chimera turned as Percy pushed himself to his feet. Percy’s sword glowed in the sunlight that filtered through the hole in the middle of the corridor wall. For the first time, Channary realized that they were 600 feet in the air. She’d never been scared of heights, but the idea of falling 600 feet through the air was terrifying enough she felt the new phobia hook itself into her skin. 

Percy slashed his sword, connecting with the Chimera’s neck— or rather, it’s collar. It sparked harmlessly against the rhinestones. Echidna— all of her skin was green and scaly now, not just her arms— laughed loudly, seeming to enjoy the fight. Channary briefly thought about throwing something at her, but decided not to when she realized the only thing she had to throw was her sword. 

Channary stepped forward, slashing at the Chimera’s legs. The Chimera roared with pain. 

“Watch out!”

Channary jumped back as Percy moved toward her. He let out a cry of pain, stumbling forward. He lost his grip on his sword as he did, and the blade skidded across the steel floor, flying out the hole the wall and down into the Mississippi River. They’d been so focused on the Chimera’s head that they’d completely forgotten about the snake tail— of which was currently biting down on Percy’s lower leg. Channary swung her sword, severing the tail from the Chimera’s body. 

The Chimera howled. Channary grabbed Percy’s arm and yanked him back, both of them nearly falling through the melting hole in the corridor wall. 

“They don’t make heroes like they used to, eh, son?” Echidna chuckled. Chimera growled in response, seeming to lick its lips. 

There was no way they were getting out of this. She didn’t know how to use her sword, and Percy didn’t even have one. Theseus had sent her to Percy only to have them both die. She couldn’t even think of something to say back to the monster.

“If you are the son of Poseidon, you would not fear water,” hissed Echidna. Channary glanced at Percy. He was staring behind them at the Mississippi River, his face slightly paler than it was a few moments ago. “Jump, Percy Jackson,” the Mother of Monsters continued. “Show me that water will not harm you. Jump and retrieve your sword. Prove your bloodline.”

Channary knew it was crazy, but she didn’t care. Percy _ was  _ the son of Poseidon, he could save them both. But first… She grabbed Percy’s wrist. “We should jump.”

_ “We?”  _ Percy repeated incredulously. He looked feverish, skin flushed and sweat beading in his face. “You’ll die!”

_ Maybe… _ If she hadn’t imagined everything, then Theseus really was her father, which meant Poseidon was her grandfather. Maybe she could survive this fall the way Percy could. “We’ll both die if we stay here!”

Percy still hesitated. Chimera growled. 

“You have no faith,” Echidna stated. She sounded amused. “You do not trust the gods. I cannot blame you, little coward. Better you die now. The gods are faithless.”

Channary scowled. “Does she  _ ever  _ shut up?”

Echidna echoed her son’s growl. “Silence!”

The Chimera opened it’s mouth, hot air billowing out of it. 

Terror seized her. “Percy, we should jump now.”

Percy closed his eyes. “Father. Help me.”

And then he jumped, pulling Channary with him. 

She won’t admit it later, but she screamed so loud she felt her throat begin to ache before she even stopped. She heard Percy scream too, but it was faint behind the roaring of the wind in her ears. The river grew larger and larger and larger and—

They hit the water. It was a rush of cold, ice encompassing her body. Percy’s wrist was wrenched out of her grip. She felt herself sinking. Around her murky water swirled. She should’ve been dead on impact, logically she knew that. Maybe she had. She looked down at her arms. They looked solid, as solid as something could look at the bottom of a river. Everything around was in colour— desaturated and dark, but there was still colour. She wasn't in the spirit realm, either. She wasn't dead. 

She knew, somehow, she was breathing— panting, really— underwater. She could  _ breathe underwater.  _ The shock was as cold as the water. She turned. She couldn’t see very far, but she wasn’t sure if it was because she was so deep that the sunlight didn’t light up the area (though, she always did see better in the dark than most people) or if it was because the water was too murky. Her clothes were dry, too. So was her hair. She wasn’t sure how. In the back of her mind, behind the loud shock, she wondered if Theseus had this ability too. She wondered what else she could do. 

“Hello?”

Channary turned. Percy was a few feet away, holding two swords in his hand— Zosimus, and his own sword. His eyes were wide as he stared at her. 

“Hello,” she echoed. She felt as shocked and amazed as he looked. 

“How…”

“You won’t believe me if I tell you.”

Percy scoffed. “I know all about Greek gods and stuff—”

“Okay,” Channary interrupted. She already knew he knew about that. His dad, after all, was a god. “Can I have my sword back?”

“Oh.” Percy seemed to realize he was holding it. He handed it toward her, hilt first. Channary took it and sheathed it. She didn’t want to lose it in the river. Percy continued to stare at her. “Who are you?”

“Channary Dane,” she replied. “I was sent to help you on your quest.”

Apprehension flickered across Percy’s familiar features. His resemblance to Theseus was a little startling. “By who?”

“My father. He, uh…” Channary hesitated. No one would believe her if she told the truth. At least, not the full truth. “He’s a son of Poseidon, too.”

“Oh,” said Percy. He looked much less apprehensive than he had before. She guessed being able to breathe underwater made him believe her easily. “Cool.” He looked up at the surface. “We should go. I have to find my friends.”

Channary nodded. Percy pressed something to the tip of his sword, and it morphed into a much smaller item— a pen.  _ Woah. _

Percy glanced at her once before kicking upward towards the surface. Channary quickly followed him. She’d never been taught how to swim, but she guessed she would never have to learn. Her body seemed to know what to do even if her mind didn’t.

When they broke the surface, they were assaulted with red and blue flashing lights, accompanied by wailing sirens. The police and paramedics had arrived at the scene. Channary wanted to go back down to the bottom of the river. 

“Come on,” Percy said. “They might be near the crowd.”

Channary followed Percy to the shore. They both were completely dry, which she found herself to be grateful for. She didn’t have anything else to wear, and staying in wet clothes was never ideal. The two of them stepped out of the water and began to make their way through the crowd. 

A little girl spotted them and pointed, but Channary held her finger to her lips. She didn’t want the police or the paramedics to notice them. The little girl gaped, but stayed silent. 

There was a news reporter close to the crowd. “Probably not a terrorist attack, we’re told,” she was saying in a classic, faux upbeat voice. “But it’s still very early in the investigation. The damage, as you can see, is very serious. We’re trying to get some of the survivors, to question them about eyewitness reports of two people falling from the arch.”

Channary tensed. Surely, they’d be able to avoid this. She could try and slip into the spirit world, though, she’d never tried to take someone with her. She couldn’t leave Percy to face all of these people alone. 

Percy began to push through the crowd. Channary had no choice but to follow. There was another news reporter, this one much closer to the scene. 

“—an adolescent boy and girl. Channel Five has learned that surveillance cameras show both of them going wild on the observation deck, somehow setting off this freak explosion. Hard to believe it, John, but that’s what we’re hearing. Again, no confirmed fatalities—”

Channary tuned out the rest of his statement. She tugged at Percy’s t-shirt. “We shouldn’t be here.”

Percy didn’t argue. Both of them slipped towards the back of the crowd. They followed the perimeter of the crowd, Percy glancing back and forth. Channary only kept her eyes on the police and news reporters. If she had to, she’d try and make them both disappear. 

“Percy!” 

Channary’s hand went to her sword, but she quickly realized that she wouldn’t need it. A satyr jumped onto Percy, hugging him tightly. Percy stumbled, but quickly hugged him back. 

“We thought you’d gone to Hades the hard way!” The satyr cried. He pulled away from Percy. He smiled brightly. He looked friendly, with dark skin and even darker eyes that sparkled in neon light of the sirens. 

The other person who had arrived was a girl, around the same age as Percy. She had curly blonde hair and steely grey eyes. She was tan, as if she’d lived outside in the sun her whole life. She was currently glaring at Percy. “We can’t leave you alone for five minutes! What happened?”

Percy grinned sheepishly. “We sort of fell.”

“Percy!” The blonde girl exclaimed. “Six hundred and thirty feet?!”

“We?” The satyr repeated. He looked past Percy and seemed to notice Channary for the first time. “Oh. Hello?”

“Hi,” Channary greeted awkwardly. The satyr stared at her, his face a mask of confusion. 

“Guys, this is Channary,” Percy said. “Her father is a son of Poseidon.”

The blonde girl’s eyebrows knitted together. “How is that possible?”

“He’s a ghost,” Channary explained. It sounded ridiculous, even though she’d seen him and breathed underwater herself. 

“You’re still a demigod,” The satyr stated. He scrunched up his nose. “A powerful one, too. Almost like Percy.”

“I, uh…” Channary felt uncomfortable under their stares. “My mother is Melione.”

Percy frowned. “Who?”

“Melione,” she repeated. “Goddess of ghosts and spirits. Daughter of Hades and Persephone.”

“I didn’t know Melione could have mortal children,” the blonde girl mused. She seemed suspicious.

“Okay, well, Channary, this is Grover and Annabeth.” Percy pointed to each of them as he introduced them. “Grover, Annabeth, this is Channary. She’s going to help us.”

“Help us how?” Annabeth asked. 

“I can get you into the Underworld,” Channary said. She knew, once she got close enough, she’d be able to sense the entrance, the same way she sensed haunted places. She could lead them there. That must've be why Theseus has sent her to them. 

There was a shout behind them. “Gangway!” 

The four of them turned as the crowd parted. There were three paramedics pushing a stretcher. On it was someone Channary recognized as one of the mother’s from the top of the arch. 

“—and there was this huge dog,” she was saying. “This huge, fire-breathing Chihuahua—”

“Okay, ma’am,” said one of the paramedics. “Just calm down a bit. Your family is safe. The medication is starting to kick in.”

“I’m not crazy!” The woman protested. “These two kids— a boy and girl— they jumped out of the hole and the monster disappeared. They—” the woman’s eyes landed on Channary and Percy. “They’re right there! That’s them!”

Both Channary and Percy turned, Percy pulling the three of them into the crowd, hiding them from the woman’s view. 

“What’s going on?” Annabeth demanded. “What happened up there?”

“Was she talking about the Chihuahua on the elevator?” Grover asked. 

“We can explain later,” Channary replied. “Right now, we should get out of here.”

“Percy Jackson,” someone said. All four of them jumped and turned— only to find it was a newscaster a few feet away, their focus on the camera ahead of them. “That’s right, Dan. Channel Twelve has learned that the boy who may have caused this explosion fits the description of a young man wanted by authorities for a serious New Jersey bus accident three days ago.  _ And  _ the boy is believed to be travelling west. For our viewers at home, here is a photo of Percy Jackson. We have not yet identified the girl.”

Channary felt like there were hundreds of eyes on her. “We should really,  _ really _ , get out of here.”

Percy nodded. “We have to get back to Amtrak station.” 

Annabeth nodded. “Follow me then. And you two,” she fixed her steely eyes on Channary and Percy. She never seemed to stop glaring. “Stay out of sight.”

  
  
  


————

  
  
  


**THEY HAD MADE** it to Amtrak station without encountering anyone, mortal or monster. After they had found an empty train car large enough for the four of them, Percy explained what had happened on top of the Gateway Arch and what had happened at the bottom of the river. Channary hadn’t said anything, suddenly too exhausted to even keep her eyes open. The last thing she’d remembered before falling asleep was Grover and Percy complaining about how hungry they were. 

When she opened her eyes again, she was greeted by Annabeth, who’d been in the process of shaking her awake. 

“Come on,” she said when she noticed Channary’s eyes were open. “This is our stop.”

Channary rubbed at her eyes, groggily following Annabeth out of the train. The sun was high in the sky, but it wasn’t hot enough for it to be afternoon. Percy and Grover were waiting for both of them by an empty bench.

“So,” said Percy. “What now?” He looked at Channary. “Are you going to lead us there now?”

Channary shook her head, fighting off a yawn. “We’re not close enough. I don’t sense it.”

“Sense… what?”

“Ghosts,” she explained. “The Underworld will be guarded by ghosts. I’ll be able to sense them when we get closer.”

“We should try and contact Chiron,” Annabeth said. “I want to tell him about Channary and your talk with the river spirit.”

“Chiron?” Channary echoed. “The horse guy?”

“He’s a centaur," Annabeth corrected. "Not an actual horse. But yes.”

“We can’t use phones, right?” Percy asked. 

“I’m not talking about phones.”

Confusion took over Percy’s features, but Annabeth didn’t wait and explain. She began to walk toward the exit of the train. Percy looked to Grover and Channary— neither of whom were any help. Channary was still waking up, and Grover was staring longingly at a crumpled tin can on the train tracks. 

“Keep up!” Annabeth called behind her. The three of them quickly stumbled after her. 

They wandered around downtown Denver for what felt like hours. It was dry and hot, the sun rising higher and higher as they made their way through the wide streets. People milled about, laughing and linking arms, balancing cellphones between their ears as they searched through their bags. No one seemed to recognize Percy. 

Channary was wide awake by the time Annabeth stopped walking. They were at an empty do-it-yourself car wash in the stall farthest away from the street. There was graffiti on all of the walls, but she couldn’t read any of it. She was never any good at reading, no matter the format. The letter's never seemed to stay in the right places.

“What are we doing here?” Percy asked Annabeth. Channary leaned against the wall as Grover pulled a spray gun out of it’s slot. She wasn’t really sure what was going on either. 

“It’s seventy-five cents.” Grover glowered at the spray gun before looking up at them. “I’ve only got two quarters left.”

“Don’t look at me,” Annabeth said. “The dining car wiped me out.”

Channary shook her head when Grover glanced at her. She hadn’t even seen money since she ran away from her previous guardian. Percy pulled three silver coins from his jean pocket. 

“Excellent,” Grover grinned. “We could do it with a spray bottle, of course, but the connection isn’t as good, and my arm gets tired of pumping.”

Percy’s eyebrows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Grover messed with the settings of the spray gun. “I-M’ing.”

“Instant messaging?” Percy sounded even more confused than before. 

“ _ Iris- _ messaging,” Annabeth clarified. “The rainbow goddess Iris carries messages for the gods—”

“I thought Hermes did that,” Channary interrupted. 

“He does,” said Annabeth. “Iris and Hermes are both messengers.” That didn’t make things clearer. Annabeth went back to her explanation. “If you know how to ask, and she’s not too busy, she’ll send messages for us, too.”

Percy didn’t look convinced. “You summon a goddess with a spray gun?”

Grover turned the spray gun on. The water that sprayed out was misty, like summer rain. “Unless you know an easier way to make a rainbow.”

The rainbow showed up immediately. Channary hadn’t ever seen a rainbow before, but she was certain it was supposed to be brighter, more colourful. That was what they looked like in movies. Instead, it was faint and watery, as if looking into the reflection of the sky in a river.

Annabeth held her hand out towards Percy. “Drachma, please.”

Percy handed over a large, golden coin. 

Annabeth held the coin over her head. “Oh, goddess, accept my offering.”

She tossed the coin into the rainbow mist. It glowed brightly and spun twice in the air before disappearing. 

“Half-Blood Hill,” Annabeth said.

Channary tilted her head.  _ Half-Blood Hill? _ Where the Hades was that?

__ The mist turned into a watery, desaturated image of someone looking out at a vast field of strawberry plants. The person they were looking at had their back towards them. He had sandy blonde hair, and was tall. He wore an orange tank top, the same colour as the t-shirts Percy and Annabeth wore. He was leaning against the wooden railing of a farmhouse porch, tapping his fingers against the hilt of his unsheathed sword.

Percy’s face lit up. “Luke!”

Luke turned, his eyes wide. They were a pale blue, the colour of ice. He had a scar on the left side of his face, long and wide. It was ridged, as if someone had tried to carve something into his face with a hook. When he caught sight of them, he grinned. 

_ He looks friendly enough,  _ Channary thought. 

“Percy!” Luke exclaimed. “Is that Annabeth, too? Thank the gods! Are you guys okay?”

“We, uh—” Annabeth seemed to struggle to get a hold of her words. She brushed a stray curl out of her face. “We’re fine. We thought— Chiron— I mean—”

“He’s down at the cabins,” said Luke. His smile was gone now. “We’re having some issues with the campers. Listen, is everything cool with you? Is Grover all right?”

Grover leaned towards the image in the mist and waved. “I’m here. What kind of issues?”

Before Luke could reply, a car pulled into the stall next to theirs. Their speakers were clearly up all the way. Channary’s heart seeming to shake in her rib cage as  _ Crazy in Love  _ continued to play. It seemed like the ground was shaking as well. 

“What is that noise?” Luke asked, shouting. 

Annabeth looked… relieved? Channary shot her a confused look, but Annabeth wasn’t paying attention to her. “I’ll take care of it!” She made a  _ follow me _ gesture. “Grover, come on!”

“What?” Grover glances at Channary, clearly confused on why Annabeth wasn’t asking  _ her.  _ “But—”

“Give Channary the nozzle and come on!”

She walked away without waiting for Grover’s response. Grover muttered something under his breath as he shoved the nozzle toward Percy, quickly following Annabeth. 

“Channary?” Luke’s eyes scanned the car wash stall until they landed on her. His eyes were colder when they weren’t looking at people he knew. She wanted to follow Annabeth and Grover, but she didn’t. She didn’t want to seem like she was scared, even if she never really did like meeting new people. 

“Channary, meet Luke,” Percy said. “Luke, Channary. We met when fighting a monster. She’s a demigod, like us.”

Luke didn’t let any emotion show on his face. “Parent?”

“Melione,” Channary replied automatically. They all were still shouting over the loud music. 

“Goddess of spirits.” Luke got a calculating look on his face. She’d seen that look before, and it never led to anything good. She felt like there were a million little ants on her arms and legs, making her want to find a shadow to sink into. She could already feel herself wavering, flickering between the spirit realm and the mortal realm. For a brief second, the entire world was in black and white— and then it was in bright colour. Luke’s eyes narrowed. 

“You were saying something about camp issues?” Percy asked. He didn’t seem to notice Channary’s mishap. She dug her nails into her palms, trying to ground herself. The loud music made it hard for her to keep her focus. The world flickered again, as if someone were flipping a light switch on and off. 

Luke’s gaze flicked to Percy. “Chiron has to break up a fight,” he explained. “Things are pretty tense here, Percy. Word leaked out about the Zeus-Poseidon standoff. We’re still not sure how— probably the same scumbag who summoned the hellhound.”

The world went black and white completely. Channary repressed a shudder at the mention of hellhounds. They could follow her to the spirit realm and through shadows. The Beast had made her fight them on several occasions, intent on making her ‘unbeatable.’ She  _ hated  _ the creatures. 

“The campers are starting to take sides,” Luke continued. “It’s shaping up like the Trojan War all over again. Aphrodite, Ares, and Apollo are backing Poseidon, more or less. Athena is backing Zeus.”

Percy looked uncomfortable. Channary had no idea what they were talking about. In the stall beside them, Annabeth and a man shouted at each other. The volume suddenly decreased drastically. Channary’s sight was suddenly filled with colour again. Her palms ached where she dug her nails in. 

“So, what’s your status?” Luke asked. “Chiron will be sorry he missed you. And sorry that he missed a new demigod.”

Percy glanced back at Channary, looking wary, but he began to explain. He explained an encounter with the Furies on a bus that ended in an explosion, meeting and killing Medusa, and explained their confrontation of Echidna and the Chimera. He even explained some of his dreams— of a dark pit and a cold voice laughing at him, of that same voice beckoning him down into the dark pit. Channary felt as if she wasn’t meant to be hearing any of this, but it seemed like Percy couldn’t stop talking. Their time on the nozzle decreased as he spoke. 

Luke looked sympathetic as he stared at Percy. “I wish I could be there. We can’t help much from here, I’m afraid, but listen… it _had_ to be Hades who took the master bolt. He was there at Olympus at the winter solstice. I was chaperoning a field trip and we saw him.”

Channary frowned. Theseus had said it didn’t make any sense for Hades to want to steal the master bolt. She remembered the dreams she’d had of Hades complaining about the effects of the last world war ( _ There’s no room for anything! We’re going to have to expand Asphodel again!) _ . She didn’t understand why everyone seemed to think that he wanted to cause another war. 

Percy seemed to be doubtful too. “But Chiron said the gods can’t take each other’s magic items directly.”

“That’s true.” Luke glanced at Channary again. “Still… Hades has the helm of darkness. How could anybody else sneak into the throne room and steal the master bolt? You’d have to be invisible.” 

There was a pause. With dawning dread, Channary realized what he meant. He’d seen her flicker between the spirit realm and mortal realm, even if it was an accident. He’d seen her turn invisible, he was trying to blame her. She opened her mouth to protest, but Luke turned back to Percy.

“Oh, hey,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean Annabeth.” 

Confusion replaced her dread.  _ Annabeth? _

“She and I have known each other forever,” Luke continued. “She would never… I mean, she’s like a little sister to me.”

A shrill scream pierced the air. Channary jumped and felt herself flicker again. She  _ really  _ needed to get a hold of herself before they continued on this quest. Following the scream was the sound of a car door slamming and tires squealing. The man who’d been playing Beyonce sped out of the car wash.

“You better go see what that was,” said Luke. “Listen, are you wearing the flying shoes? I’ll feel better if I know they’ve done you some good.”

Channary looked down at Percy’s feet. He was wearing normal, no-brand sneakers.

“Oh, uh, yeah!” Percy gave Luke a guilty smile. “Yeah, they’ve come in handy.”

“Really?” Luke grinned again. He looked friendlier when he smiled. “They fit and everything?”

The water shut off. The image wavered as the mist began to disappear. Luke’s grin fell. 

“Well, take care of yourself out there in Denver! And tell Grover it’ll be better this time! Nobody will get turned into a pine tree if he just—”

The mist disappeared completely. Percy dropped the arm holding the nozzle, staring at the graffiti-ed wall of the car wash stall. It felt significantly colder than it had when they’d first entered.

Annabeth and Grover came back into the stall, laughing. They stopped when they noticed Channary and Percy staring at the wall. She knew what it must’ve looked like, with her seeming to flick in and out of existence every few minutes and Percy staring sadly at the wall. 

Grover eyed Channary warily. “Are you… okay?”

Channary thought of Luke’s implications about both her and Hades. “Yeah,” she lied. She looked down at herself. She was just slightly translucent, just enough for people to notice. “This is a thing that happens sometimes when your parents are ghosts.”

_ And when she was scared, _ but she wouldn’t admit that to them.

“What happened?” Annabeth asked, glancing between the two of them. “What did Luke say?”

Percy answered her first. “Not much.” He glanced at Channary. He finally seemed to notice her predicament. “What is happening to you?”

“I’m…” she struggled to find the right word. “Glitching. Going back and forth between the dead and living worlds.”

Grover’s eyebrows shot up, a look of terror on his face. “You can just walk into the Underworld like that?”

Channary shook her head. “No, it’s a different place. When spirits die, they follow a path to the ferryman, who will lead them into the Underworld. I can visit that place whenever I want, because it’s my mother’s domain. She controls all of that realm. She decides who gets led on the right path, and who has to stay longer.” 

Channary repeated the words she’d been told before. She remembered the ghosts her mother had sent messages through. Sometimes, on bad nights, she had nightmares about them dragging her into the shadows, trapping her in the spirit realm forever. “Sometimes, I get stuck,” she continued. “When I’m tired, or hungry, or—” She stopped herself from saying she was afraid. She didn’t want to explain why, tell them that Luke thinks she stole the master bolt. She didn’t want them to think she did either. “Or just not healthy, I get stuck.”

“So, you need food,” Annabeth said. She looked concerned. “I saw a sign for a diner just north from here.”

“Okay.” Percy nodded, straightening his shoulders. “Come on. We all could use some food.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trying to figure out how to write again is a very exhausting and overwhelming experience.


	3. I. CHAPTER TWO

**THEY FOUND A** diner quickly. Inside, it looked as if they hadn’t had any new decorations since the 1960’s. The floor was in a black and white checker pattern and every bench was a pastel yellow, the tables between them pale pink. It smelled like hamburgers and milkshakes. 

There were people scattered around, families laughing with each other. No one aside from the employees looked up when they entered. They found an empty booth near the entrance. Annabeth made Channary sit down first before taking the seat next to hers. Grover and Percy sat on the other side. 

“Will mortals notice you?” Annabeth asked. 

Channary shook her head, dark hair flying into her eyes. She brushed it back. “The Mist keeps anyone from noticing me, usually. And if I need to, I can disappear completely.”

A waitress walked over to them. She didn’t look happy, even in a bright blue and pink uniform. Channary considered disappearing then, both to show that she could to her new companions and to avoid this situation entirely. The waitress raised her penciled eyebrows. “Well?”

“We, um…” Percy looked nervous. “We want to order dinner.”

“You kids have money to pay for it?”

Channary’s world flickered again. Annabeth touched her arm, and the world flickered back.  _ Huh,  _ Channary thought to herself.  _ Guess human contact helps, too.  _ Annabeth seemed to have the same realization, because she scooted closer to Channary. Their shoulders were pressed against each other. 

Percy was just about to respond— maybe to lie, or make up some story, Channary didn’t know— when the loud sound of an engine cut through all the sounds of the diner. Everyone seemed to be in a trance as they looked to the diner’s front windows. 

The motorcycle’s headlights glared red, and it was easily as big as the cars around it, even bigger than a few. The man on the motorcycle was nearly as big as his bike. He has thicker muscles that Theseus, dressed in black jeans and a red shirt, his leather jacket looking as shiny and sleek as his motorcycle. There was a silver knife strapped to his thigh. 

When he walked into the diner, people rose from their seats. They all wore blank looks on their faces, covered in neon red light. The man waved a hand, and everyone sat down. 

In front of them, the waitress blinked. The blank look slipped from her face and she turned back to them. “You kids have money to pay for it?”

Motorcycle-man was suddenly next to her. “It’s on me.”

He slid into the seat next to Annabeth, shoving both of them against the window. The waitress’ mount opened and closed, like she was trying to find words. The man looked at her. Even though he was wearing sunglasses (with red lenses… Channary thought he looked like a cartoon character), she could tell he was glaring at her. 

“Why are you still here?” He demanded. He pointed at her, and she tensed all over. It was like someone threw cold water on her. Channary watched in disbelief as the woman turned on her heels and quickly walked back toward the kitchen. Motorcycle-man turned to Percy, who was already glaring furiously at the man. 

“So,” The man grinned. “Your old Seaweed’s kid, huh?”

“What’s it to you?” Percy demanded. 

Annabeth shot him a nervous look. “Percy, this is—”

The man raised his hand. His grin has turned into a smirk. “It’s okay. I don’t mind a little attitude. Long as you remember who’s the boss. You know who I am, little cousin?”

_ Cousin…?  _ Channary stared at the man. He didn’t look anything like Percy— or Theseus. 

Percy seemed to know who he was, though. “You’re Clarisse’s dad,” he said. “Ares, god of war.”

Area grinned again. He tossed his sunglasses onto the diner table, next to the napkin dispenser. “That’s right punk. Heard you broke Clarisse’s spear.”

Percy scowled. “She was asking for it.”

“Percy,” Channary hissed. She couldn’t complete Theseus’ request if Percy managed to get himself vaporized by a god. 

Ares turned his gaze to Channary. His eyes were empty sockets. Red flames blazed in the place of irises. Channary almost reached for her sword, but stopped. She didn’t want Ares to think she wanted a fight. She was sure she couldn’t take him in a fight. 

“Channary Dane.” Ares sounded pleased to see her. “You’re causing quite the commotion upstairs.” 

Channary felt like she was going to be sick from nerves. He didn’t make it seem like it was a  _ good  _ type of commotion. Ares leaned back in his seat, looking between Channary and Percy. “When I heard you two were both in town, I had to come see you for myself. I have a little proposition for you.”

If it wasn’t for Annabeth touching her arm, Channary was sure she would’ve slipped into the spirit world completely. The waitress was back at their table, balancing three trays. They were filled with cheeseburgers and fries. There were five chocolate milkshakes. The waitress set them on the table, her hands shaking. No one risked moving to help her. 

Ares pulled a handful of golden coins— drachmas, Channary noticed— from his pocket and handed them to the waitress. She gave him a nervous look. “These aren’t…”

Ares unstrapped his knife from his thigh, nearly giving Annabeth a long cut up her arm. He twirled the silver blade between his fingers. “Is there a problem?”

The waitress flicked her gaze between the four kids at the table, but none of them said anything. The waitress took the coins with her shaking hands and walked back to the kitchen.

Percy gave Ares another angry glare. “You can’t just do that. You can’t just threaten people with a knife.”

Annabeth looked calm, but the tension in her shoulders said otherwise. She pulled a tray towards her and Channary. She handed Channary the plate of fries and ordered, “Eat.”

Channary didn't protest. She shoved a french fry into her mouth as Ares laughed at Percy. “Are you kidding?” he said. “I love this country. Best place since Sparta.” 

He slammed his hand into the table, knife trapped underneath his scarred hand. Grover jumped, yelping. Ares’ hand reminded Channary of Theseus’ hand— crooked fingers and pale lines that told a lifetime worth of stories. Nearly all of which had been carried over millennia. 

“Don’t you carry a weapon?” Ares continued. “You should. Dangerous world out there.” He began to twirl his knife again. “Which brings me back to my proposition.”

Channary couldn’t help herself. “Why do you need us? Aren’t you a god?”

Ares looked somehow both annoyed and amused. “I need you punks to do something I don’t have the time to do myself,” he said instead. “It’s nothing much. I left my shield at an abandoned water park here in town. I was going on a little… date with my girlfriend. We were _interrupted._ ” His voice lowered into something hot and angry. “I left my shield behind, and I want you all to fetch it.”

Percy’s glare was still set on the war god. “Why don’t you get it yourself?”

Channary wondered that too, but she wasn't brave enough to ask. Ares’ eyes flashed, red light seeming to spill from his eyes. 

“Why don’t I turn you into a prairie dog and run you over with my Harley? Because I don’t feel like it.” Ares sounded truly annoyed now, all amusement gone from his voice. He turned to look at Channary. “A god is giving you an opportunity to prove yourself.  _ Both  _ of you. Will you prove yourself to be a coward? Or maybe you two only fight when there’s a river to dive in to, so old Seaweed can protect you.”

Percy looked as if he were shaking from anger. Channary only felt her confusion grow. She got why Ares was targeting Percy. He was the one Zeus thought stole his lightning bolt, Ares knew that he didn’t. Surely, he had to know. Why else would he be asking for his help? For  _ their  _ help? 

“Ares, uh, sir,” Channary regretted speaking the instant he looked at her, but she continued her question anyway. “Why do you need  _ my  _ help?”

Ares grinned. “The other Olympians think you're going to be a problem. I think they’re overreacting.” His grin turned menacing. “I want to see what you’re capable of, little ghost.”

Channary’s world flickered so bad her fries phased through her fingertips. Beside her, Annabeth gasped. Someone squeezed her arm, and suddenly the world was back in colour. Amusement washed over Ares’ features. She felt like she was back in New York, standing before her previous guardian as he told her what type of monster or mortal she’d be fighting that day. 

Percy’s glare seemed to intensify at Ares’ words. “We’re not interested. We’ve already got a quest.”

“I know all about your quest, punk,” Ares sneered. “When that  _ item  _ was first stolen, Zeus sent his best out looking for it: Apollo, Athena, Artemis, and me, naturally. If I couldn’t sniff out a weapon that powerful…” he trailed off. The flames in his eyes seemed to blaze brighter, as if the idea of the master bolt excited him. “Well… if I couldn’t find it, you got no hope. Nevertheless, I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. Old Seaweed and I go  _ way  _ back. After all, I’m the one who told him my suspicions about old Corpse Breath.”

Channary sat up straight. “You’re the one who told people that Hades stole the bolt?”

“Sure.” Ares shrugged. “Framing somebody to start a war. Oldest trick in the book. I recognized it immediately. In a way, you got me to thank for your little quest.”

“Gee,” Percy muttered. “Thanks.”

_ This act of thievery could start a war,  _ Theseus had said.  _ Hades isn’t the type to cause wars.  _

_ But Ares is,  _ Channary thought. But what would Ares get from stealing the master bolt? Why would he want to try and weaken Zeus?

“Hey, I’m a generous guy,” said Ares. “Just do my little job, and I’ll help you on your way. I’ll arrange a ride west for you and your friends.”

“We’re doing fine on our own,” Percy protested. 

“No we’re not,” Grover muttered. Annabeth seemed to agree with him, but she said nothing, just continued to sip her milkshake. 

“Listen to you friends, punk,” Ares grumbled. “You have no money. No wheels. No clue what you’re up against. Help me out, and maybe I’ll tell you something you need to know.” Ares leaned across the table toward Percy. “Something about your mom.”

All of the anger and protest left Percy’s expression. “My mom?”

Ares’ grin was cold. “That got your attention. The water park is a mile west on Delancy. Look for the Tunnel of Love ride.”

The anger was back as quickly as it had left. “What interrupted your date?” Percy asked. “Something scare you off?”

Ares sneered. “You’re lucky you met  _ me _ , punk, and not one of the other Olympians. They’re not as forgiving of rudeness as I am.” He stood up, sliding his knife along the table. It carved a line into the polished wood. “I’ll meet you back here when you’re done.” He looked over at Channary. “Do  _ not  _ disappoint me.”

Channary found herself nodding, as if she had no control over her actions. She blinked, and then Ares was gone. His motorcycle wasn’t even in the driveway anymore. 

Grover was staring at Percy. “Not good. Ares sought you out, man. This is  _ not  _ good.”

“He also sought out Channary,” Annabeth said. “He said the Olympians were talking about her.” She seemed both suspicious and concerned. “Any idea why?”

Channary thought about her father, the myths that had been told time and time again. She thought about Grover telling her she was powerful, of the way The Beast had told her she was his secret weapon. She could lie, but she never really was good at lying. But then again… how could she tell the truth about Theseus? How could she tell the truth about anything?

“No.” She shook her head. “No idea at all.”

  
  
  
  


————

  
  
  


**AFTER THEY FINISHED** their food and Annabeth convinced Percy, they left the diner. The horizon was rosy, the sun sinking below mountain and tall buildings. There were less people on the street now, but Percy still wasn’t recognized. 

The waterpark wasn’t that far from the diner. When they got there, Channary could tell the waterpark was not anyone’s priority. The bright yellow letters above the entrance gate were faded, and some of the letters were missing. What used to read  **WATERLAND** was now  **WAT R D.** The entrance gate was shut, a chain and padlock wrapped around the black bars. The top of the gate was lined with spiky wire. Channary doubted they’d be able to climb the gate.

“If Ares brought his girlfriend here, I’d hate to see what she looks like,” said Percy. 

Channary winced at his comment. She’d gotten a lot of lessons about the Olympians and their myths from her first guardian, and she could tell that Percy didn’t know much, or else he wouldn’t have said that. 

“Percy,” Annabeth warned. “Be more respectful.”

Percy shot her a look. “Why? I thought you hated Ares.”

“He’s still a god,” Annabeth reminded him. “And his girlfriend is very temperamental.”

Again, Channary winced. Her first guardian had been a son of Aphrodite (his name had been Phillip Morrison). He had always claimed Aphrodite to be one of the most important and best Olympians, and had also always reminded her that she didn’t like to be even a  _ little  _ insulted. 

“You don’t want to insult her looks,” Grover said.

“I don’t think we should insult any of the Olympians,” Channary mumbled. None of them seemed to hear her. 

“Who is she? Echidna?” Percy joked. 

_ Please don’t kill him,  _ Channary prayed. For good measure, she looked up at the sky, as if Aphrodite was looking down at her at that moment.  _ He just doesn’t know.  _

“No. His girlfriend is Aphrodite.” There was a dreamy tone in Grover’s voice. 

“I thought she was married to Hephaestus,” said Percy. 

“She is,” Channary said. 

“Oh.” Percy looked uncomfortable. 

Channary didn’t really get why. Phillip had always told her she shouldn’t question the gods and their choices, unless she wanted to put herself in danger or die. Theseus had said it wasn’t up them to question the gods. She wondered if anyone had ever told Percy that. 

“So…” Percy turned to the gate. “How do we get in?”

“If it were just me I could just walk through it,” Channary said. 

Percy looked at her. “You can walk through things?”

Channary nodded. She knew most people wouldn’t be eager to dive back into the spirit world after the experience she had at the car wash and diner, but she was. She was used to the black and white world, the emptiness of it all. The slip into the spirit world was as comfortable as pulling on a worn hoodie. The world lost its colour. 

“Woah,” Grover said. Channary already knew what she looked like to them. To demigods and monsters, she looked like a normal ghost— willowy and silver-blue. To mortals, she was invisible. 

She walked forward, phasing through the black bars of the entrance gate. She turned to look at their awe-struck faces. “See?”

“That’s so cool,” Percy said. 

“What about us?” Annabeth asked. Her awe seemed to wear off quickly. “We can’t phase through gates.”

Channary pointed to the lock. “Break that.”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. “Why won’t you do it?”

“I…” Embarrassment settled on Channary’s shoulders. “I’m not that strong.”

None of them laughed, though. Annabeth just pulled her knife from her belt. She cut through the rusted chain easily, and swung the gate open. 

“Where do you think Ares left his shield?” Channary asked them as they walked through. 

“He mentioned the Tunnel of Love ride,” Annabeth answered. 

“Guess we’ll have to search the place,” said Percy. 

They walked around the waterpark as the sky went from rosy to indigo. Channary’s world came back to colour as they checked each ride and attraction they passed. Nothing attacked them, or even seemed to be lurking in the shadows. She found herself frowning as they continued to walk. What could’ve possibly forced Ares and Aphrodite to leave, and was still able to hide? There wasn’t even any destruction to show of some kind of fight. 

They stopped at the souvenir shop. Immediately, Channary’s eyes found the wide selection of clothes on the far right of the shop. There was an empty counter in the back, candy bars and chips and gum packets all beckoned her to come closer. She hesitated. What if the monster that had scared off Ares and Aphrodite was in here?

Annabeth, on the other hand, did not hesitate. “Clothes,” she breathed. The relief in her voice was as vibrant as neon. “Fresh clothes.”

Percy held out an arm as she lunged forward. “You can’t just—”

Channary shot him an incredulous look. “What? Steal?” She interrupted. “Sometimes you don’t get a choice, and right now, I think this is one of those times.”

She followed Annabeth into the souvenir shop. She grabbed a backpack from one of the front racks and started shoving things into the bag: an entire tie-dye outfit with the Waterland logo on the pockets, a handful of candy bars and several bags of chips. She spotted both a boy’s and girl’s restroom behind the counter. She took a pair of large, black swim trunks off the shelf, along with another tie-dye t-shirt and blue sweatshirt. All of them had Waterland Park written somewhere on it. 

She closed the girl’s bathroom door shut loudly behind her, a wordless sign that the room would be occupied. She got changed out of her grimy, worn clothes quickly and tossed them into the waste bin. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to wear new clothes. The shorts almost reached her ankles, but the t-shirt and sweatshirt fit fine. 

She looked in the mirror. Her pale face was dirty, a scratch bright red on her lower jaw. Her eyes were darker than their usual dark green, looking black in the dim light of the bathroom. Everything but her hair and eyes were dark— she looked like a ghost. Her hair was as dark as shadows, long and tangled. She wished the souvenir shop had hair brushes. 

She tried to think of what Phillip taught her. She turned the tap on, letting the water run from cold to warm as she combed her fingers through her hair, wincing as she yanked at the tangles. She washed her hands with the soap from the dispenser, then placed soap on a wet paper towel and scrubbed at the dirt on her face until she was red all over. 

She shut the water off as someone knocked on the door. She dried her hands on her new sweatshirt and opened the door. Annabeth stood on the other side, her arm full of clothes. Channary saw Percy enter the boys bathroom across from them. 

Annabeth was taller than her, by at least four inches. Channary had never been very tall in the first place (being 8 years old usually meant she was shorter than most people), but Annabeth made her feel especially small. 

“Oh, hi,” Channary said, looking up to meet Annabeth’s eyes. “Did you want—”

But Channary realized that Annabeth was already in new clothes. She wore a sweatshirt, the same blue as Channary’s. 

“Do you need an extra outfit?” Annabeth asked. “I don’t know the next time we’ll come across clean clothes.”

Channary shook her head. “I have one.”

The two girls stood in awkward silence in the doorway. Annabeth shoved the extra clothes into her backpack. She looked past Channary into the bathroom. 

“Do you have a sheath for your sword?” Annabeth asked suddenly, cutting through the tension. 

Channary looked behind her. The bronze rapier was lying across the top of the closed toilet seat, glowing brighter than the pale bathroom lights. The sea glass hilt reflected against the walls like it was light against water. It’s sheath was on the floor, black leather looking like a darker patch of shadow. 

Channary nodded. “Th— my dad gave it to me, just before he sent me to Percy.”

Annabeth studied her. “Your father is a son of Poseidon.” It was a statement, not a question, but Channary nodded anyway. “How?”

“He died before I was born,” Channary answered. “He was a ghost when I was born. He’d actually beena ghost for a very long time before I was born.”

Annabeth slung her new backpack over her shoulders. “How is that possible?”

“Dunno,” Channary shrugged. “But it’s the truth. I’d never even met him before all this.”

“Then how do you know he’s telling the truth?” 

“Just do,” she replied simply. “I can always tell when ghosts are lying or not. My father wasn’t.”

Annabeth seemed deep in thought. “That must be why the Olympians are talking about you. I don’t think any demigod has had a ghost for a parent before.”

Channary flushed. She  _ hated  _ the idea of the Olympians talking about her. All that attention from people who could kill her with just the snap of their fingers… she wondered if she could stay in the Underworld to hide. 

Annabeth gathered up her curly blonde hair to the top of her head before expertly looping a hair elastic around it, dropping her hair so the end of her ponytail brushed her neck. 

“How do you do that?” Channary asked before she’d even thought about it.

“What? Put my hair up?”

Channary nodded. 

Annabeth pulled another hair tie— a nearly identical copy of the one she’d just used, a single black band— off her wrist. “Come here.”

Channary moved toward Annabeth, and the other girl gripped her shoulder before turning her around. Annabeth’s fingers were cold as she combed them through Channary’s hair, pulling it up into a ponytail. 

“Are you cold?” Channary asked as Annabeth looped the elastic around her hair. It was the middle of June, and considerably warm out. Not that Channary could feel it, much. She was always cold after visiting the spirit realm.

Annabeth seemed to hesitate. “Back in the diner, after Ares told you that the Olympians thought you were a problem… when you went to the spirit realm, you took me with you. I’ve been cold ever since.”

Channary stiffened.  _ You took me with you. _

“I didn’t know I could do that,” Channary said. It explained the cold. Annabeth wasn’t used to fading in and out. She felt guilt settle in the pit of her stomach. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Annabeth. “I know you didn’t mean to. Besides, it wasn’t that bad.”

Channary thought of the spirit world, the desaturation and emptiness of it all. To her, it was something normal, comforting to be surrounded by shadows and the dead. To Annabeth, it was probably none of those things. She wondered if Annabeth was lying. 

She didn’t ask. She reached up to touch her hair, running her fingers through the ponytail. She smiled at Annabeth. “Thank you, by the way.”

Annabeth smiled back at her. The door of the boy’s bathroom opened and Percy emerged, wearing an ensemble of tie-dye. 

“Hey,” he greeted when he spotted them. “Nice sweatshirts.”

“Is Grover good to go?” Annabeth asked. Channary stepped back into the bathroom, wrapping her sheath back around her waist and slung her new backpack over her shoulders. 

She shoved Zosimus into the sheath as Percy replied, “He’s good. We should find the Tunnel of Love ride before it gets too dark.”

“Good idea.” Annabeth nodded. She looked back at Channary. “You coming?”

Channary nodded and followed the two of them back to the entrance of the store, grabbing a bag of chips of a local brand from the front desk. She opened it and held it out to Annabeth. “Want some?”

Annabeth took one. Channary handed a few to Percy and Grover as they continued their search through the waterpark. 

“So…” Percy started, seeming to hate the silence. “Ares and Aphrodite... they have a thing going?”

Channary tried not to laugh. It was clear that Percy didn’t know much, but he’d learn eventually. 

“That’s old gossip, Percy,” Annabeth said, sounding as asmused as Channary. “Three thousand year old gossip.”

“What about Aphrodite’s husband?”

Channary handed Grover a chip. He smiled at her before he shoved it in his mouth. 

“Well, you know,” Annabeth shrugged. “Hephaestus, the blacksmith. He was crippled when he was a baby, thrown off Mount Olympus by Zeus. He isn’t exactly handsome. Clever with his hands, and all, but Aphrodite isn’t into brains and talent, you know?”

Channary shoved a chip into her mouth. She didn’t really think Ares was that handsome either, but she didn’t voice that thought. She didn’t want to hurt Ares’ feelings. 

“She likes bikers,” said Percy. 

She saw Annabeth roll her eyes. “Whatever.”

“Hephaestus knows?” Percy asked. 

“Oh sure,” Annabeth replied. “He caught them together once. Literally. He caught them in a gold net, and called the other gods down to come laugh at them. Hephaestus is always trying to embarrass them. That’s why they always meet in out-of-the-way places like…”

Annabeth trailed off. In front of them was a wide, empty pool. At each corner of the pool was a tacky, gold seven-foot-tall statue of the Roman god, Cupid. All of them had their golden bows drawn, pointed at one another across the pool. On the other side of the pool there was a tunnel, dark and empty. The sign above it was obviously supposed to be lit up, but they were off now. Channary squinted, but trying to read the words wasn’t easy. One of the words was obviously love, though. 

“Like this,” Annabeth finished. 

Grover crept forward. “Guys, come look at this.”

Channary shoved her chip bag into her sweatshirt pocket and moved forward, standing between Percy and Grover. At the center of the empty pool was a pink and white boat. It was obviously made to only fit two people, and it had red hearts painted all over it, as if a toddler had begun placing stickers haphazardly along its sides.

On the left seat was a shield, large and made of the shimmery metal of Celestial bronze. On the right seat was a pale pink scarf made of silk. It glowed almost as much as the shield. 

“This is too easy,” Percy said warily. 

“Are we supposed to just take it and go?” Channary asked. She couldn’t remember if Ares had given them instructions. 

Annabeth looked at the statue closest to them. She ran her hand along the base of it, tapping her finger against the letter in the middle. 

Channary frowned. “What is it?”

“There’s a Greek letter carved here,” Annabeth answered. To Channary it just looked like a capital H. “Eta… I wonder…”

“Grover,” Percy called. The satyr looked over at him. “You smell anything? Any monsters?”

He sniffed the air, nose scrunching up. “Nothing.”

Percy raised his eyebrows. “Nothing like  _ in-the-Arch-and-you-didn’t-smell-Echidna-nothing  _ or  _ actually  _ nothing?”

Grover looked sheepish, and a little hurt. “I told you, that was underground. It’s hard—”

It was Percy’s turn to look sheepish. “I’m sorry.” 

Channary wrapped her hand around the hilt of her sword. “So who’s going down there?”

None of them look eager. Percy took a deep breath. “I’ll go.”

“Me too,” Grover said. He sounded nervous. 

“No,” said Percy. Grover looked at him, hurt seeping back into his features. “I want you to stay up top with the flying shoes. You’re the Red Baron, a flying ace, remember? I'll be counting on you for back up, in case something goes wrong.”

The hurt left Grover’s expression, leaving only shy confidence. “Sure. But what could go wrong?” 

“I don’t know,” Percy admitted. “It’s just a feeling. Annabeth, come with me—”

“Are you kidding?” Annabeth interrupted. Her face was as bright as the red painted hearts at the boat. 

Percy looked annoyed. “What’s the problem now?”

Annabeth looked at him in disbelief. “Me, go with  _ you  _ to the…” she threw an arm towards the sign. “The  _ Thrill Ride of Love _ ? How embarrassing is that?! What if someone saw me?”

Percy’s cheeks darkened. “Who’s going to see you?!” 

Annabeth spluttered incomprehensibly. 

“Fine,” Percy grumbled. He turned to Channary, who was looking between them, trying to understand what was going on. “Channary, you come with me.”

Channary hesitated. She didn’t want to look scared, but there was something about the emptiness of the pool… it reminded her of the barren fields of Asphodel she’d seen in a dream, ghosts everywhere. As much as she liked the spirit world, Asphodel made her uncomfortable. It was so…  _ loud.  _

“It’s fine,” Annabeth said, face still red. “I’ll go.”

She walked past Percy, descending into the pool. Percy looked at Grover, but he only shrugged. Grumbling, Percy followed Annabeth to the boat. 

Channary frowned. “I don’t get what the big deal is.”

Grover looked at her for a moment— probably trying to decide if he should explain or not. He seemed to know why Annabeth made such an issue, but instead he just said, “Yeah, me neither.”

Channary looked back at the statue. There wasn’t much detail on it, but it was still recognizably Cupid. She’d seen statues like this in New York, seen the god in paintings from centuries ago. The tip of his arrow was in the shape of a heart, the point facing outward. Achingly, she thought of her old bow and arrow and of Phillip, who had taught her how to shoot it in the first place. He would’ve liked arrows like that. 

She blinked tears out of her eyes. She couldn’t think of him now, not while they were in potential danger. She could hear Annabeth and Percy bickering in the pool, but she only stared straight ahead, trying to shove away her racing thoughts. Memories blurred with her sight, and she could feel a sob building in her throat. 

_ No,  _ she thought desperately.  _ No, not now, please please please  _ please  _ not now. Please— _

__ The Cupid statue let go of the heart-tipped arrow. A gasp left Channary’s mouth involuntarily.

“Guys!” Grover shouted down at Annabeth and Percy. “Look out!”

Percy looked and immediately ducked, pulling Annabeth down with him. The arrows seemed to trade places with one another. Channary drew her sword, and then paused. Who was she going to fight? The statue?

“We have to get out of here!” Percy exclaimed. 

“Duh!” Annabeth shouted at him. 

Channary looked down at them. There was now a golden net over the top of the pool. Channary thought back to something Annabeth had said.  _ He caught them in a golden net, and called the other gods down to laugh at them.  _

Percy grabbed the shield and Annabeth’s hand and sprinted towards the edge of the pool he’s climbed down from. 

“Channary!” Grover shouted. He pointed at her sword and then the net. 

She slashed at the net, but it wasn’t as easy to cut as she’d thought it would be. She dropped to her knees and started sawing the net with her sword, which was much too big for a task like this. She missed her rusted knife. 

Grover was pulling apart places where the net wove together, trying to unravel it, calling to Percy and Annabeth for them to hurry up.

Above them, the Cupid statues seemed to begin to glow. Channary looked up, and saw that the heads of the statues were now replaced with expensive looking video cameras. A deep voice seemed to surround them. 

“Live to Olympus in one minute,” it said, then began to count down. “Fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven…”

Channary tuned the voice out and began to cut through the rope faster. 

Annabeth made a noise of frustration, loud enough to cut through Channary’s focus. She almost cut her entire left hand off. “Hephaestus!” She cried. “I’m so  _ stupid _ ! Eta is ‘H!’ He made this trap to catch Aphrodite and Ares! Now we’re going to be broadcasted live to Olympus and look like absolute fools!”

Percy said nothing to this, but he began to try harder to climb up the steep slope. The rope Channary was cutting snapped just as something began to pour from the sides of the pool. Spiders, she realized in horror. Tiny, metal spiders. 

Annabeth screamed. She fell back, nearly toppling down the slope, but Percy caught her. He dragged back down towards the center of the pool, his arm wound tightly around Annabeth’s wriggling form. 

“I hate spiders,” Channary muttered. 

Percy dragged a still screaming Annabeth into the boat. Percy yelled something at her, but Channary couldn’t hear it. A metal spider crawled over Channary’s hand. She yelped, flinging into the statue of Cupid, falling backward. 

The statue was still counting down. “Thirty-six, thirty-seven…”

“Channary!” Grover called. He helped her get to her feet. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” she said. She picked her sword up from the edge of the pool. “We can’t cut the net fast enough. What are we supposed to do?”

Grover looked panicked. The statue continued counting down. “Twenty, nineteen…”

Channary felt anger rise in her chest. She pulled herself away from Grover and lunged herself at the statue. She scaled it easily— she’d always been good at climbing. She had to be when she had still been using her bow and arrow. When she reached the top, she settled herself on the statue’s shoulders, and then drove her sword into the lens of the video camera. Maybe if she broke it, everything would stop. The statute seemed to shake.

She jumped down and began to sprint towards the one on the Western corner, not bothering to look behind her at the statue she might’ve just destroyed. Grover seemed to understand what she was doing and ran to the Eastern one. The monotone, deep voice still counted.

“Grover!” Percy called from the pool, barely being heard over Annabeth’s shrieks. “Get into that booth! Find the on switch!” 

Channary glanced behind her. The statue Grover was running has a glass booth as it’s bass instead of gold painted plastic. The satyr dived into it, hands slamming into all of the buttons. Channary climbed the statue, repeating her actions. The camera sparked and the statue shook. She jumped down just as Cupid’s head seemed to snap back together like LEGO pieces.

The voice was still going. “Five, four…”

She could never reach the last statue in time. She looked down at Annabeth and Percy. She could shadow travel to them, but she wasn’t sure if she could shadow travel back. She’d never had any time to practice, but she was beginning to think she’d have to start anyway. 

“Three, two…”

Channary desperately wished she had her bow and arrow. If she did, all the cameras would’ve been broken by now.

“One, ze—”

Water exploded from the sides of the pools. It poured into the pool like a rushing tide, sweeping the spiders and boat up. Annabeth screaming turned into a yelp as Percy yanked her away from the side of the boat and shoved her into the seat across from him, fastening a seatbelt across her torso. 

Spotlights glared down from the last two working cameras, showing that they were live to Olympus right at that moment. One spotlight was pointed at Annabeth and Percy, another pointed directly on Channary. Channary picked up one of the dead, metal spiders and threw it at the camera. It didn’t do any damage, which only served to make her angrier. 

Channary heard Percy shout, and when she turned to look at him, she saw the boat he and Annabeth were on be swept into the tunnel. 

“Grover!” Channary shouted. He was out of the booth now, dark eyes wide. “Go to the other side! We can meet them there!”

The two of them, both on opposite sides of the pool, sprinted along the outside of the tunnel. Grover made it there first, but Channary wasn’t far behind. They arrived just as Percy and Annabeth’s boat crashed into the locked gates. 

They were launched over the gates, both screaming.

Beside her, Grover shouted, “ _ Maia! _ ” and launched forward in the air, reaching for Percy and Annabeth. He caught them both roughly, but he wasn’t strong enough. Channary could only watch as the three of them tumbled to the ground and landed at Channary’s feet. Percy landed on Ares’ shield, which didn’t seem to be comfortable if his expression gave any indications. 

Channary rushed towards them. “Are you guys okay?”

“Just  _ peachy, _ ” Percy grumbled. He accepted Channary’s hand to pull himself up. She glanced at Annabeth, but she was already up and helping Grover stand. Percy waved his arms, almost hitting Channary with the shield still attached to his arm. She realized that the spotlights had turned to watch Channary and Grover run to the end of the tunnel, and were now on all of them. 

“Shows over!” Percy shouted. “Thank you! Good night!”

Miraculously, the spotlights shut up, as if someone had flipped a switch. Channary glared at them. She remembered tournament nights from when she lived with The Beast, him sitting on his throne and eating strawberries as he asked the children he raised to fight each other or monsters. This felt like that, knowing that the person who was watching you was enjoying your torment. 

Percy turned back to them, looking as angry as Channary felt. “We need to have a little talk with Ares.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wuh oh... introduction of trauma...
> 
> btw i did not edit this if there are mistakes i am so sorry


End file.
